Fire Princess
by Lia79.dreamer
Summary: Just a little one shot I had lying about for a while and decided to throw out there... I hope it makes sense without much background information; warnings - violence, some swearing...maybe I should put it up to M just in case? Anyway. Read and review, please. Hoat found out the hard way not to play with fire and dragons...


She stared at him through everything. There was no accusation in her gaze, no anger, just defiance and cold resolve. They bashed her around, while he and Brienne stood there unable to help her, both of them being held at sword point. His wrists were still chained, but the longer he watched, the more he wanted to at least _try_ to save the girl, the woman, who was taking the blows not showing any emotion, not giving in.

_I will not bow. Not to Joffrey, not to Cersei, not to those outlaws. Not to you. Not to anyone. Do what you will with my body. You cannot break me. I will not bow!_

Her words rang in his head, while he watched, his sword hand twitching, needing the sword to come tear those brutes off the Targaryen Princess.

"Still trying to resist me?" the goat tried to feel her up, only to have her try and bite his hand. She got backhanded for her trouble, but he did not try again. "Come on, little cunt, we will treat you so well…"

"I would rather die, than be anywhere near you," she hissed with this dangerous gleam in her eye – the same one Jaime saw in battle, at Whispering Woods where they took him captive, where _she_ defeated him. Her dragon's burning rage was building, her direwolf's bloody vengeance ready to be unleashed on those outlaws who dared mistreat her and those she saw as hers; right now, Jaime was certain that he and Brienne were counted as hers and therefore anyone to touch them was going to get hurt.

"This could be arranged, Princess," the men gloated. Jaime saw a flash of fear in her eyes when she glanced at him, but it was gone so fast that he thought he imagined it. Instead he saw a rather blood curling smile on her lips; she was trying to scare the men, cover just enough to let her get her hands on them – there would be a massacre if she was let lose now. She was angry. No, furious.

At goat's command they tied her hands behind her back and dragged her to the small campfire they had, whooping and tugging her hair and clothing. Jaime was starting to feel more and more nervous as they dragged her closer and closer to the fire.

"More wood! Let's honor the Fire Princess!" Hoat yelled. Jaime's stomach turned when he realized why they needed more wood. _Good gods, they are going to burn her alive!_

He struggled now, hard, not letting his eyes stray from her face, as he saw the realizations dawn on her. She pulled at her bonds harder, but only succeeded in cutting her wrists. She looked at him again, panic in her eyes, while her face was absolutely impassive, a stone cold resolute mask of utter indifference.

"Reagan!" More men moved to his side to contain him, as they knocked him to his knees, and kept him there, as he struggled to get up.

Brienne also seems to have caught up to what exactly the Bloody Mummers had in mind and roared like a wounded animal, only to be knocked to the ground as well.

The fire was building fast as they dragged her to it. One of the men had stuck Brienne's sword into the fire pit to act as means to keep the Princess in the pit. A foot from the soon to be a blaze, the Hoat grabbed Reagan by the hair.

"You could still persuade me to change my mind. This will be such a waste otherwise…" he brushed his hand down her throat to her breasts, as she tried to pull away.

"The fire looks far more pleasant than what you have in mind," she spit in his face, and Jaime noted with some satisfaction that she got him square in the eye.

"Bitch!" Hoat tossed her aside. "Into the fire!" the men obeyed with glee, dragging her into the fire pit and tying her to the sword, her arms at the sides of the sword so that if she moved any, she'd be lucky to still have her arms at all.

Reagan refused to let them know how terrified she was. Jaime saw her defiantly set jaw, and raw fear in her eyes that were glued to his. He was starting to feel sick, trying to suppress the memory of Rickard Stark's death in the fire. He saw the men approach with wood and torches as well as a flagon or two of what he assumed was wine, or something flammable. _No, no, no, no, no, no, no…_ Jaime chanted in his head, refusing to believe what he was witnessing. He glanced at the men around him, but saw no way for him to overcome them.

"No, no, no, no, no," Jaime tried to stand again, but as before was knocked back down, this time with a sword at his neck and someone forcing him to look at the pit where Reagan sat, surrounded by wood and dripping whatever it was they poured over her while they laughed.

"No!" Jaime yelled seeing a man with a torch nearing Reagan. She glanced at the man, but turned her gaze back at him, her lips parting slightly. Brienne was still trying and failing to free herself, but mercifully she was faced away and no one thought to turn her around.

Jaime held Reagan's gaze, loathing the terror in her eyes, as her breathing increased the closer the torch was brought. There was a storm of emotions raging in her eyes, she was trying to tell him something, but he could not decipher what it was. She mouthed something, and after a bit of concentration he realized she was chanting her Houses' words: "Fire and Blood. Winter is coming."

Jaime felt as if the time has slowed. He saw the torch fly through the air, heading straight for Reagan's lap. Reagan resolutely refused to look away from him, tuning out everything around her, and he held her gaze. The torch landed. He saw her gasp, as the fire took hold of her breeches where they spilled something on her. It spread fast, eating up her clothing, spreading to the wood all around her.

"NO!" He screamed. His throat was sore already, after his anguished cries.

She kept looking at him, while the fire spread, soon consuming her, hiding her from his sight. She did not scream. It seemed as if the fire did not hurt her in the slightest. He watched in morbid fascination as the flames danced, raising above the hilt of the sword. There was still no sound, no indication of if Reagan was still alive or already dead, no movement. After a minute or so, the flames started dying down slowly. Even the Mummers seemed uneasy in the silence that weighted heavily on everyone at the clearing.

The Hoat seemed to be the only one unaffected by the silence or the picture. "Has she burned or not? Where's the smell?"

Now that Jaime's attention has been brought to it, he realized that there indeed was no smell of burning flesh; he remembered the acidic smell from the throne room at Red Keep. What happened next took his breath away.

By this point everyone was staring intently at the fire pit, trying to see the body or the sword, or _something_. Jaime looked on thinking hard. _I thought that it was a myth; Reagan said herself that Rhaegar would repeat to her that fire didn't harm a dragon. He would tell her that she is a true dragon. What if…?_

He did not dare finish the thought in case he has been wrong and Reagan was indeed dead. Another person taken from him; another person he cared for, another who cared for him. He was so consumed by those thoughts he didn't at first register what he was seeing.

There in the flames stood Reagan, the rope burning off her, her clothing ablaze, but her skin as smooth as it ever was. No burns, not even sweat, nothing to suggest she was standing on a pyre. Her hair tie has burned off and her dark hair tumbled around her, immune to the flames that licked at her skin. She looked him in the eyes, dead level, calm and serene. Then, she turned around and pulled the sword out of the ground, the blade obviously burning hot, but again, she paid it no mind. Instead, she stepped out of the flames, marched up to Hoat and with that same serene expression on her beautiful face she stabbed him through his chest. He wailed in pain, as everyone else cringed at the sizzling sound and putrid smell of burning flesh. Reagan's clothing was burning right off her as she advanced on the rest of the group. The men were far too stunned to stop her as she cut down the men around Brienne, who stood remarkably fast and after the initial shock, just grabbed a sword off one of the dead Mummers and followed her lady as Reagan advanced on the group of outlaws surrounding Jaime. Some dropped whatever weapons they had and ran screaming in terror; others died from her burning sword. Soon enough there were only Jaime, Reagan and Brienne left in the clearing.

Reagan's clothing has burned off of her by now, and Jaime found her sitting back in the fire, curled up in the flames seemingly content.

Brienne has taken the shackles off of him, and Jaime headed to the fire, rubbing his wrists warily.

"Reagan?" he rasped quietly. She lifted her head a little and looked at him. He stared back at her, searching her face. "Are you alright?"

She looked at him for a moment longer, as if processing what he had said. Then slowly a smile spear across her face. "I'm alright," she whispered, shuffling around a little and covering herself with soot. She grimaced slightly and he chuckled at her antics.

"A true dragon indeed," he murmured reaching a hand out wary of the flames. "Now, Princess, as much as I enjoy the display, we better wrap you in a cloak before you catch a cold." She reached out to him, grasping his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet and out of the fire. To his surprise her skin was colder than he thought: it was pleasantly warm, but not flaming hot as he expected. He took the cloak Brienne handed him and wrapped it securely around the Targaryen Princess that was absently looking about at the carnage. While Brienne sauntered off to get their horses, Jaime took the opportunity to examine the Princess more closely.

Before he put the cloak around her, he has gotten a good view of her body and he saw the plethora of bruises and scrapes adorning her skin. Otherwise she seemed unharmed, and it calmed him. She looked back at him with question in her lilac eyes. He sighed before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her tightly to him to make sure she was really alive and in his arms.

"You scared the living daylights out of me, Princess," he rasped, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling. She smelled of fire and smoke and a smudge of something flowery. Very reassuring after what he just witnessed.

"I scared myself," she sighed and burrowed closer, seeking reassurance or something other, he didn't know.

"Well, don't do that again," he ordered half-heartedly, already knowing that it was a rather hard promise to uphold. She shifted and he looked down to meet her eyes – she was grinning impishly. "You'll be the death of me, Princess."

She laughed and he hid a smile in her hair, thinking that there was some justice in the world after all…


End file.
